


"Leave A Kiss But In The Cup"

by The Spike (spike21)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-01
Updated: 2007-01-01
Packaged: 2020-09-26 19:10:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spike21/pseuds/The%20Spike
Summary: You know those missions where you both unknowingly drink sex pollen?





	"Leave A Kiss But In The Cup"

The drug takes her like a storm surge, like the fire of her own anger catching in dry brush. Too late she lets the stone cup fall from her fingers.

“Uh oh,” Rodney says. His breath is liquid heat against her shoulder; He rubs his face cat-like against her arm; cheek warm and smooth, except where it’s rough.

“Yes,” Teyla says, warmth pooling in her belly. “We are in danger here. Terrible… terrible…” Rodney whimpers; mouths his way up her neck, tongue lapping at her ear. Teyla turns her head and takes his soft mouth in a bruising, biting kiss.

*

The rug is a rough brush of silk under Rodney’s palms as Teyla pushes him back, opens his clothes. Rodney is dazed with lust, mind slowed to a ratcheting crawl. All around them the sounds of joining rise and fall.Time strobes by in flashes like the beat of blood to his cock.

He is naked, he is hard. Teyla is…

She is…

Over him, under him -- fast and ruthless, slow and inexorable. Taking her pleasure again and again and leaving him wanting. He’s hard and leaking, belly and thighs slick with his own need and her satisfaction, but he can’t move except where she lets him. Wants him.

On his belly, face between her thighs. On his knees at the mercy of her mouth. On his back, cock aching, he begs her:

“Teyla, *please*…”

“Beautiful,” she whispers, sliding onto him, riding him so slowly he can only curl and mewl his need. “Soft and… weak and--” One hand holds him down, the other slides back between his legs.

“Teyla…” he pleads, but his hips come up anyway and when she fucks into him with her fingers, he shudders and comes so hard he thinks he’ll die.

*

Teyla wakes to the pounding of many small angry men inside her head. Rodney is asleep half on top of her, his face mashed against her breast. He smells like sex; he smells like her.

She flashes back on the night before and blushes deeply; briefly considers feigning sleep for the rest of her life. This is when Rodney groans piteously and jerks awake, smacking his head painfully into her chin.

When she stops seeing stars he is snatching up his clothes and trying to cover himself.

“I…” he says, looking stricken. “We…” He bolts, leaving Teyla to face their surprised-looking hosts.

*

Later, after she has explained the ways of her companion and resolved the last details of the trade agreement, she takes a mug of steaming kef and goes in search of Rodney.

She finds him sitting by a nearby stream, typing away on his laptop. He looks up when he hears her, but doesn’t meet her eyes until she holds the mug of kef before his face.

“It will help with the headache,” she tells him. He sighs and takes the mug. His first sip is experimental, his second is greedy.

“Good,” he says. He takes another sip and hands it back. “Sorry about the…” He gestures vaguely.

“Rodney,” she says.

“Oh god, please don’t make me talk about it,” Rodney says, cringing. “I mean not that it was bad, because it wasn’t bad. You weren’t bad, you were… well, you were amazing actually, it’s just that…”

Teyla waits, but Rodney only turns bright red and goes back to staring at his laptop.

“Anyway,” he says. “If we could just never speak of it again.” His look this time is pathetically earnest and then he goes pale and worried. “Oh. Unless you need to. I mean, if you’re traumatized, I can…” Teyla’s not sure what expression is on her face, but Rodney drops his head into his hands, clearly miserable.

“There is no way this is not going to be awful, is there?”

“Perhaps not speaking about it would work,” Teyla decides.

“Really?” Rodney says, his expression lightening for the first time.

“Really,” Teyla says.

*

The walk to the Gate is long and Rodney tries very hard to keep to neutral subjects – everything from hum of the local insect life to possible menus that will await their return to Atlantis. He feels he’s doing pretty well until Teyla turns to him, eyebrows raised meaningfully.

“What?” he says. Then, as her eyebrows climb impossibly higher he considers just how much talking he’s been doing and how possibly Teyla hasn’t managed to get a word in edgewise for the past forty minutes:

“Oh,” he says. “Sorry.” And then later:

“I was just trying to…” and “Right, right. Sorry.”

For a while after that they walk in silence. Rodney tries to think of anything but the feel of her hands moving him, her fingers inside him, her demanding mouth and the sounds she made when he was inside her. By the time they reach the gate his face is so hot he wonders if he’s having some kind of allergic reaction to something. Possibly the kef.

He starts to punch in the gate symbols for Atlantis but Teyla’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Rodney,” she says, and for a horrifying moment he just knows they are going to have the talk anyway.

But Teyla only leans over and kisses him softly on the cheek. The touch is cool and light against his heated skin and before he can even start formulating his questions, she has punched in the rest of the symbols and the wormhole has engaged.

There are so many things a kiss on the cheek after a night of drugged, mind-blowing, possibly deeply mortifyingly good sex can mean or not mean and Rodney is man enough to admit, if only to himself, that his track record for getting this kind of thing right is not the best.

Teyla isn't helping. She is wearing one of those smiles he doesn't dare call 'inscrutable' in front of Elizabeth for fear of the *look*, as she steps through the Gate.

And even so and for no reason he can put his finger on, Rodney has the oddest sense of no disaster looming whatsoever as he follows her back through the blue pool to their home.

*

**Author's Note:**

> "Drink to me only with thine eyes,  
And I will pledge with mine;  
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,  
And I'll not look for wine."  
-Ben Jonson


End file.
